The Second Yule Ball
by Marie Tomas
Summary: Harry has been working as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts for several years, and he knows that he's supposed to be a mature adult. Yet, after years of rivalry, he has no idea why he agrees to go to Hogwarts' second Yule Ball with Draco Malfoy.


**Disclaimer** : Harry, Draco and all past, present and future Yule Balls belong to J. K. Rowling.

 **Notes/Warnings** : A Harry/Draco story with a mention of Dean/Seamus and Hermione/Ron. I was re-reading the Yule Ball chapter in _The Goblet of Fire_ and thought this fan-fiction based on a Yule Ball might be fun to write, especially as Christmas is just around the corner. Featuring awkward, nervous, clueless (and perhaps slightly self-absorbed) Harry, and smug, self-assured Draco. Set post-Hogwarts with Harry and Draco working as Hogwarts professors (EWE). I hope you like it!

* * *

 **The Second Yule Ball**

* * *

Harry wasn't sure why he had said yes.

Still stunned from the events of earlier in the day, he looked slowly from Ron to Hermione, who were sitting on either side of him on one of the sofas at The Burrow.

Every few seconds, Hermione patted Harry's arm, murmuring what sounded like words of comfort, while Ron (who still looked horrified by Harry's latest announcement) lifted a hand as though to pat Harry's other arm, but then he seemed to think better of it.

" _Bloody hell_ ," Ron muttered for what seemed like the tenth time, as though giving voice to Harry's thoughts.

Suddenly, Ginny, George and Percy walked into the room, all chatting happily about the upcoming Christmas holidays. Their conversation quickly died however, when they saw the look on Harry's face.

"What's up, mate?" George asked him, his brow furrowed in concern.

Harry tried a few times to offer a response, but no words came out.

Finally, Hermione answered for him. "He's…well…er…" she said hesitantly. "He's agreed to go to the Hogwarts Yule Ball with Draco Malfoy..."

"Bloody hell," Ron repeated.

"Blimey," said George, looking like he was torn between surprise and amusement, while Ginny's eyes widened and Percy looked at Harry questioningly, as though unsure whether to suggest that Harry should perhaps pay a visit to St Mungo's.

Harry tried to speak again, but in the end he gave up and put his head in his hands, wondering if he was perhaps having some sort of delayed nervous breakdown, almost ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts. It would certainly explain a lot.

Several hours had passed since he had spoken to his former arch-nemesis, and Harry still had no idea why he had agreed to attend Hogwarts' second Yule Ball with Draco Malfoy.

He'd been having such a good day, too. He'd just finished teaching a productive afternoon's worth of Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, and with a free weekend ahead of him, he'd been planning on spending some time relaxing at The Burrow, maybe playing a game of Quidditch with the Weasleys, or going somewhere for dinner with Ron and Hermione.

He'd just walked out of his classroom when he'd spotted Malfoy standing right in front of him, the usual smug smirk on his face, with his hair looking annoyingly sleek and shiny, as usual.

"What?" Harry had asked him abruptly, because even though they were both Hogwarts professors now (and at some point, they had reached an unspoken agreement to be civil to one another when there were students around), this was still how they spoke to each other when nobody else was listening.

"Potter," Malfoy had smirked, still looking like the arrogant prat that he had been for most of Harry's school years, "the Yule Ball is fast approaching…"

Harry hadn't been able to avoid rolling his eyes and sighing in exasperation at the mention of the Yule Ball.

He'd hated the first Yule Ball back in his fourth year at Hogwarts, and this distaste for parties, dances and formal events had continued into his adult years. Harry wasn't sure which part he hated the most-the fact that events like these meant that he attracted even more attention than usual, or the fact that he was always expected to take part in tacky, romantic gestures at these events. He even hated going on dates to romantic restaurants and tea-shops, which meant that his love life had suffered somewhat over the years.

Harry had been hoping to avoid any formal events while working at Hogwarts, but unfortunately, with the arrival of several students from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in America for a Quidditch tournament, and lots of talk about improving international magical relations, a Yule Ball had started to seem almost inevitable, or unavoidable, to Harry.

"Anyway," Malfoy had continued with another smirk, ignoring Harry's obvious look of disgust, "I was thinking that perhaps you would like to go with me?"

At this invitation, Harry had felt his eyes widen as he stared at Malfoy in open-mouthed shock. He'd also felt his heart inexplicably start to beat faster.

"Why would _we_ go together?" Harry had eventually asked him, unable to keep the irritation, and perhaps a touch of apprehension, out his voice. "We hate each other."

"Do we _really_ , Potter?" Malfoy had asked Harry with a raised eyebrow, and a patronising look that seemed to suggest that he knew something Harry didn't. "Are you _sure_ about that?"

At this, Harry had annoyingly started to blush.

The truth was that Malfoy had had a point. Draco Malfoy still got on his nerves on a daily basis, but Harry was fairly certain that he no longer hated him.

Yet he couldn't quite define exactly how he felt about him now. Worringly, he knew that 'a bit obsessed' would perhaps be a more accurate way of describing his feelings, even though he would rather duel with a dragon than admit this out loud to Malfoy.

This new obsession had started right after the Battle of Hogwarts, when Harry had become overly involved in the trials of former Death Eaters, following the Malfoy family's trial in every single wizarding newspaper. His friends had simply put this obsession down to an avoidance tactic, or a reluctance to face up to the reality of the aftermath of the Battle and the losses that they had all faced.

But then, a couple of years later, when Harry had already been working as an Auror, Draco (after going completely off the radar in the wizarding world for a little while) had started working at the Ministry of Magic.

Right from Malfoy's first day, Harry had noticed that Malfoy had looked…healthier than he'd looked during his last couple of years at Hogwarts. His hair had looked thick and full, as well as soft and silky, practically glistening every time it caught the light. His eyes had looked brighter and his skin had also looked clear and smooth, with a slight pink tinge to his cheeks whenever he had been happy or angry. Although still rather slender-looking, he also seemed to have filled out a bit, making him look slightly more muscular.

The annoying git had of course been working in the Department of Mysteries, adding to the sense of mystique around him, and with this sense of the unknown (and the frustrating lack of knowledge about what Draco Malfoy had been up to since the war), Harry had suddenly wanted to know more about him; he had wanted to know all of his secrets, and maybe even follow him around work to get some answers.

Obviously, Malfoy had still taken time out of his 'important' daily work to torment Harry, finding excuses to throw insults at him in the Ministry corridors and leaving insulting notes written on spare bits of parchment on Harry's desk for him to find almost every morning, leading to Kingsley Shacklebolt calling them to a meeting to try and get them to be more civil towards one another at work. Yet this had all only caused Harry's obsession to increase, as he'd been determined to give as good as he got when it came to writing insulting notes back to Malfoy, determined not to let him win.

A year or so later, Harry had grown tired of being an overworked Ministry employee and he had accepted a teaching post at Hogwarts, working as the full-time Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

He had barely had time to consider the fact that it felt strange going to work every day without Malfoy's constant presence when Malfoy had joined him there, accepting the job as Potions teacher after Slughorn's second retirement, and their strange rivalry had continued within the walls of Hogwarts, in spite of the fact that they were both supposed to be mature adults, responsible for the magical education of those younger than them.

"OK," Harry had eventually concluded, "maybe we don't hate each other that much now, but still...what would make you think that I would 'perhaps want to go with you'?" he had asked, trying his best to imitate Malfoy's upper class drawl, just to annoy him.

"You can't think of any reason, Potter?" Malfoy had asked him, his eyebrow raised, looking like he could read Harry's deepest, darkest thoughts. "None at all?"

Harry had started blushing all over again as a particular memory had suddenly come to mind...

One day last December, Harry had been out for late-night drinks with Hagrid and a few of his friends who lived in Hogsmeade. He'd heard strange noises coming from a broom cupboard in the Three Broomsticks and had decided to investigate, just in case any of the Hogwarts students happened to be hiding there. After all, the headmistress was very strict when it came to the days and times that students were allowed to visit Hogsmeade.

When he had opened the door, he'd instantly taken in the sight of two shirtless men, the two of them snogging as though blissfully unaware of the fact that they were crowded into a dingy broom cupboard at a very busy pub. One of the men had been dark-haired, and Harry hadn't recognised him. But he had instantly recognised the fair-haired man as Draco Malfoy.

When they'd caught sight of Harry, the dark-haired man who Draco Malfoy had been snogging had gasped and hastily tried to cover himself up, looking very embarrassed, but Draco Malfoy had stayed completely still, smirking at Harry without a hint of embarrassment, and with the traces of the scar that Harry had given him back in sixth-year still visible on his chest. He had had a look of defiance in his eyes, as though daring Harry to say something about the sight he was being confronted with.

Harry might have left the pub early in shock, but that particular image had inexplicably played over and over in Harry's mind for months after that evening, his dreams full of blond shirtless men, which had unfortunately served to heighten Harry's obsession with Malfoy even further, as well as provoking a strange sense of confusion similar to the confusion that had weighed heavily on him since his break up with Ginny a few years ago.

He'd even started to get nervous around Malfoy for a while, keeping his head down and hurrying past him whenever he and Malfoy had crossed paths at Hogwarts, and trying to change the subject when Malfoy mentioned something to him about no longer being in contact with the dark-haired man who Harry had found him with in the broom cupboard.

"Well?" Malfoy had prompted Harry, bringing him back to the moment and reminding Harry that he had still been waiting for some sort of response. "Do you accept my invitation or not?"

Harry had continued to blush, feeling hot and bothered and anxious.

He'd wanted to say something scathing to Malfoy, to refuse outright to go with him, which had seemed like the most logical response, or to remind him that Harry hated going to formal events, to accuse Malfoy of playing some sort of practical joke on him, to tell him that it wasn't funny, that he wasn't going to fall for any of the former Slytherin's tricks...but for reasons completely unknown to Harry, when he'd opened his mouth to speak, he'd simply mumbled, "Yeah, OK," and then, to Harry's utter mortification, he'd gone on to say, "Thanks," like he was actually grateful to be asked.

Then, he'd hurried away as fast as his legs could carry him, finding himself at The Burrow in a state of shock only hours later.

"This is obviously some sort of practical joke, isn't it?" said Harry to Hermione and Ron, back in the present and apparently finding his voice now that the shock was wearing off a bit. "I mean, he still acts like such a prat! He can't be doing this because he actually wants to go with me!"

"You don't know that," said Ginny, reasonably, while Percy nodded in agreement.

Harry was at least grateful to Ginny for being such a good sport about all this, rather than suddenly turning into a jealous ex-girlfriend.

Ron and Hermione, however, didn't look all that convinced by Ginny's more optimistic take on the situation.

"If you're so upset about it, why don't you just tell him that you've changed your mind about going with him, or tell him that you don't want to go anymore?" George suggested.

"I can't," Harry whined pathetically, although he was unable to come up with any particular reason why he _couldn't_ back out of going to the Ball with Malfoy now that he'd agreed to it. "I can't believe I even thanked him!" he groaned. "What in Merlin's name is wrong with me?"

"We'll go to the Ball, too," Hermione told him, a determined look in her eyes as she nodded at Ron. She had apparently sensed Harry's feelings of helplessness in this situation. "We can keep an eye on things…do something to help if it _does_ turn out that Malfoy's up to something-"

"Or if you and Malfoy end up fighting in the middle of the dance floor," Ron cut in, but he quickly went quiet when Hermione glared at him.

"Professor McGonagall will let us go," Hermione continued, when Harry tried to remind her that only Hogwarts students and teachers were permitted to attend the Yule Ball. "It's coming up to the tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, after all, and we're your best friends. She won't say no."

Harry grinned gratefully at her, starting to feel a bit calmer.

"Harry?" Ron asked him. " _Why_ did you agree to go to the Ball with Malfoy in the first place?"

Harry could do nothing but shrug sadly, genuinely unable to explain, even to himself.

"Bloody hell, mate," said Ron, again.

* * *

Whispers and giggles followed Harry up and down the corridors of Hogwarts on Monday morning.

At first, Harry had no idea why he was attracting so much attention from the students, and he even wondered if there was something wrong with his hair (more wrong than usual, that is), or if someone had cast some sort of 'hilarious' spell on him without his knowledge, or if he'd spilled milk on his robes at breakfast.

The whispers were almost enough to distract Harry from the fact that Malfoy kept walking past him in the corridors between lessons with a smug smirk on his face.

It wasn't until he was teaching his last class of the morning to the third-year Gryffindors that Harry finally had an answer as to why so many students were giggling at him.

He was in the process of trying to teach the third-years about Hinkypunks when one of the girls suddenly raised her hand.

"Please, sir," she asked, "is it…is it _true_ that you're going to the Yule Ball with Professor Malfoy?"

A few of the students looked shocked by her boldness, but most of them leaned forward in their seats and waited for Harry's response, as though nothing could be more fascinating than the confirmation that Harry was indeed going to the Ball with their Potions teacher.

For a few seconds, Harry felt a rush of apprehension, feeling almost physically sick at the thought that his 'date' with Draco Malfoy was already the subject of students' gossip and fascination, and he wanted nothing more than to run out of the room; but then he forced himself to go back into authoritative 'teacher-mode' so that he could regain his composure.

"I'm not sure how that would have _anything_ to do with Hinkypunks, Sarah," Harry sighed, "or Defence Against the Dark Arts in general. Now, I suggest that we get back to our lesson, or else you'll all have too much homework over Christmas to even _think_ about events like Yule Balls…"

Harry might have distracted his third-year students from asking about him and Draco Malfoy, but this didn't mean that the rest of the day was any easier, especially at lunch, when it felt as though every female student was staring avidly at Harry and 'Professor Malfoy', their eyes darting from one to the other. Some of them even stood up to get a better look when Malfoy asked Harry to pass him the potatoes.

Harry had no idea why the idea of him and Malfoy going to the Ball together was suddenly provoking so much fascination. He knew that Malfoy had always been a popular teacher since he had started at Hogwarts (much to Harry's surprise, as he had expected him to be just like Snape), and he generally treated all students with respect, only showing the occasional bias towards Slytherin house. Yet Harry was fairly certain that Malfoy's popularity as a teacher had nothing to do with the students' enthusiasm about Harry's decision to go to the Yule Ball with him.

* * *

An obsession with the Yule Ball seemed to grip the castle over the next week. It was getting increasingly difficult to make students concentrate in class, and Harry and Draco seemed to be attracting more attention than ever.

On Thursday morning, one of Harry's sixth-year classes was interrupted by the arrival of a singing bouquet of roses, carried by several of the school owls.

The owls placed the bouquet on the desk of one of the Ravenclaw boys, who looked a bit embarrassed but also very pleased, and then the flowers proceeded to sing a song which was apparently written by his partner (a sixth-year Hufflepuff boy, according to the words of the song) about how he couldn't wait to dance with him at the Yule Ball.

Harry wasn't sure how the other students were going to react to this song, but most of the girls seemed to find the gesture adorable, as there were many cries of, "Aww!" and happy sighs from most of them, followed by a loud round of applause from the whole class as the last notes of the song faded away.

"Settle down! Settle down!"

Harry looked at the door to see Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway, apparently there to check that everything was all right due to what must have been a lot of noise ringing out into the corridor.

This was something that they both did for each other, checking in on each other's classes whenever it seemed like there was some sort of disruption, to help each other out. Harry wasn't sure why they did this, as it wasn't as though they had become friends after they had started teaching at Hogwarts, but in the end Harry had decided that it was merely out of sympathy for each other, as they were both the newest and the youngest members of staff at Hogwarts.

In spite of Malfoy telling the class to be quiet, Harry couldn't help noticing that he looked strangely amused by the sight in front of him, and he definitely seemed to smirk along with the students when he headed out of the door and presumably back to the dungeons.

With all of the attention on the Yule Ball, and a fascination about who was going with whom, Harry knew that if there was ever a time to back out his agreement to go to the Ball with Malfoy, then this was it.

Yet for some reason, he just couldn't do it, even though he couldn't quite explain to himself why it would be so awful to decide not to go.

* * *

After lunch on Thursday, Harry headed back to his office for a break, where he noticed a letter, waiting to be opened on his desk.

It turned out to be an invitation to Dean and Seamus's upcoming wedding. Harry stared at the invitation in surprise for a few minutes, trying to process its words. He wondered when this romance had happened between his two Gryffindor friends. Harry couldn't remember any hint of the two of them being together back at Hogwarts, but then, given his woeful naiveté when it came to his own love life, he really wouldn't be all that surprised if he were to discover that Dean and Seamus had been snogging right under his nose the whole time, and he simply hadn't noticed.

* * *

Throughout his last class of the day, Harry was distracted thinking about the singing bouquet in his earlier class. He was focused not so much on the disruption that the song had caused, but more on the fact that it had referenced romantic gestures like _dancing_ at the Yule Ball.

He hadn't even thought about all of that up to now. He had barely thought beyond the first few minutes of the Ball, when he would have to walk into the Great Hall and concentrate very carefully on not tripping over his feet. The rest of his thoughts were occupied with imagining every possible trick or practical joke that Malfoy could play on him.

When the bell rang, signalling the end of the class, Harry called upon an inner courage that even _he_ wasn't sure he possessed and went to find Malfoy.

He caught up with him just as he was leaving his Potions class.

"Will we have to dance?" Harry blurted out, barely even looking at Malfoy. He'd already decided that it was better to know in advance if Malfoy expected this of him, given that Harry was no doubt still a rubbish dancer.

"What, Potter?" Malfoy asked, looking at Harry as though he were on the verge of losing his sanity.

" _Will we have to dance_?" Harry repeated, more insistently this time. "At the Yule Ball?"

"Potter," Malfoy smirked, a look of comprehension dawning on his face as his tone became ever more patronising. "You're going to the Yule Ball with a charming, handsome pure-blood. You should _want_ to show me off to everyone, parade me around the room for all to see…at least for the first dance, anyway…"

Harry was unable to come up with anything coherent to say in response, other than, "Right, yeah, OK…" before he turned around and scurried back to his office, feeling even more nervous than ever, if that was possible.

* * *

On Friday morning, Harry entered his office to find a note scribbled on a piece of parchment on his desk.

The note consisted of one sentence, in the unmistakable handwriting of Draco Malfoy, along with illustrations of several musical notes, no doubt to indicate that his note was imitating the song from the day before.

 _I can't wait to dance with you at the Yule Ball._

Harry stared at the words for a few moments, thinking about how they were surprisingly friendly from somebody like Draco Malfoy, but then the words and the musical notes suddenly vanished from the piece of parchment, to be replaced by an all-too-detailed-looking illustration of Harry, his hair a mess, looking scruffy in his robes and falling all over the dance floor as he attempted to dance.

Harry sighed to himself, quickly deciding upon spending yet another weekend at The Burrow.

* * *

"He's up to something!" Harry insisted for what was probably the twentieth time that evening.

Bill, Ron and even Arthur Weasley gave him very strange looks. Harry couldn't help feeling frustrated, wishing that they could at least attempt to see things from his point of view, and understand his theory that Malfoy was obviously planning on using the Yule Ball as an opportunity to humiliate Harry.

"Is zis like ze time you believed ee was trying to poison you?" Fleur asked him scathingly, rolling her eyes as she used her wand to clean up various pots and pans.

Harry knew that he should be helping to clean up, too, but his panic about Draco Malfoy's motives had apparently driven all motivation to wash dishes out of his mind.

"Yeah…no…maybe…oh, I don't know!" Harry answered, not sure which answer would be best right now, given that most of the Weasleys considered Harry's theory from last year that Malfoy was trying to poison him to be entirely a figment of Harry's imagination.

Harry wished that they could understand why his paranoia at the time had been a perfectly justified reaction. About twelve months ago, Draco Malfoy had randomly started inviting Harry to 'have a cup of tea' in his office with him on Friday afternoons, when neither of them had classes to teach.

He had seemed to watch Harry intently every time Harry had taken a sip of the tea that Malfoy had prepared, his topics of conversation entirely too friendly and polite for Harry's liking, with the tea tasting far too delicious, leading Harry to conclude that Malfoy had probably been putting something poisonous in Harry's tea. Harry would perhaps have still believed this theory, if not for the undeniable fact that he had not actually collapsed or dropped dead at any point over the past year.

"Look, mate," Bill reasoned, "if you really believe that he's 'up to something', why don't you just call the whole thing off? Tell him that you're not going? Say that you promised to go with someone else?"

"I can't!" Harry insisted, feeling very hopeless and pathetic. "If I do that now, it'll look like I wasn't brave enough to go! He'll call me a coward, or worse, he'll tell everyone at Hogwarts that I'm a coward, and…and it'll mean that _he's won_!"

As he spoke, Harry suddenly realised that he now had his explanation as to why he simply couldn't refuse to go to the Ball with Malfoy. He also worried, as most of the Weasleys threw concerned looks in his direction, that he had not in fact matured in the slightest since his own Hogwarts years. Harry felt particularly concerned about this idea, given that many parents now trusted him to educate their own children at Hogwarts.

* * *

As the Christmas holidays drew ever nearer, and a feeling of dread settled in the pit of Harry's stomach, he started to give serious consideration to the idea of not going to the Yule Ball after all.

He couldn't help thinking that it would be easier to take on another Dark wizard during the Christmas holidays, rather than facing a night at a Yule Ball with Draco Malfoy.

Yet in spite of these thoughts, on the last Saturday of the school term, he found himself not running away to The Burrow but instead at Gladrags Wizardwear in Hogsmeade, trying to find new dress robes to wear for the Ball.

Although there were many different colours of robes to choose from, in the end, Harry decided upon bottle green dress robes, just like last time. He knew that he could use the excuse that the elderly witch working at the shop insisted that they perfectly complimented the colour of his eyes, but deep down, Harry knew that he had chosen them because he had a feeling that Malfoy would be impressed, if he wore green.

After he had strolled around the village for an hour or so, Harry suddenly remembered his invite to Seamus and Dean's wedding, and he decided that he should probably have a look around Hogsmeade for a suitable wedding present.

Harry eventually ended up at the Three Broomsticks, laden not only with his dress robes, but also with several potential wedding presents that he had been too polite to refuse to purchase.

As he took a few soothing sips of Butterbeer, Harry's thoughts drifted to Dean and Seamus, and also the two male sixth-year students who were going to the Ball together, publicly declaring their love with a singing bouquet. He already knew as he thought about all of this that his internal panic and sense of unease for the past few weeks had had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that for the first time in his life, he was going to a formal event in the wizarding world with a wizard instead of a witch.

The wizarding world had been a much more tolerant place since the war, and it was very rare for outright discrimination in any form to take place now. He was surprised about Dean and Seamus being together, but only in the same way that he would be surprised if a witch and a wizard became a couple seemingly out of nowhere. Moreover, the singing bouquet had only unnerved him because it had disrupted his class, and it had reminded Harry that he would probably have to dance with Draco Malfoy at the Ball. It made no difference to him that it was used as a romantic gesture between two wizards.

Even if the wizarding world hadn't been so tolerant, Harry never had and never would let the prejudice of witches and wizards get in the way of what he wanted to do.

Besides, Harry had never found the idea of two blokes going to a Ball together to be particularly strange. If Ron had suggested back in fourth-year that he and Harry should simply go to the Yule Ball together, rather than inviting girls who they didn't particularly want to go with, Harry would have agreed, even though he definitely only saw Ron as a friend. He might even have gone to other events with other male students though, perhaps a few years later.

Harry had always found certain wizards attractive, and as an adult, if any men had asked him to go for a drink in Diagon Alley or to Ministry functions together, Harry would have agreed, perhaps out of curiosity to see what it would be like. He really wouldn't have seen it as being particularly different to agreeing to go on a first date with a woman.

No, Harry decided as he finished his drink, the reason why he was so terrified about attending this particular Yule Ball was not because he was going with a wizard, but because that wizard happened to be Draco Malfoy.

* * *

On Christmas day, Harry was awoken from a somewhat pleasant dream about anonymous fair-haired men who weren't wearing anything to cover up their chests by the sound of birds singing outside.

He sat up in his bed in his room at Hogwarts and suddenly felt a fresh rush of anxiety as his mind quickly caught up with his body and he remembered what day it was.

Harry liked Christmas well enough, and it was nice to sit by the fireplace in his (now more luxurious) room and unwrap all of the presents that his friends had sent him. He was even looking forward to what would no doubt be a delicious breakfast and Christmas lunch in the Great Hall. It was just the upcoming Yule Ball that he was dreading.

In spite of his nerves, Harry still filled his plate with food at lunch in the Great Hall, sitting as far apart as possible from Malfoy at the staff table, and even managing to grin every time he wished groups of students Merry Christmas, pointedly ignoring the fact that some of them gave him a thumbs up and wished him luck when he headed back to his room after lunch.

But then, as the afternoon turned into evening, and it felt like time was somehow going much quicker than usual just to spite him, Harry felt the nerves creeping in all over again, and he realised that he was dreading this Ball a lot more than the fourth-year Ball, even though back then he'd had to start the dancing with his fellow Triwizard Tournament Champions.

He spent an embarrassingly long time getting ready for the Ball, almost feeling guilty for laughing with Ron back in fourth-year about Hermione taking so long to do her hair.

As eight o'clock approached, Harry took one last look in the mirror, still somehow feeling like he didn't look good enough, or like the hour spent combing his hair really hadn't been worth it.

As his reflection stared back at him through the mirror, still looking like the awkward teenage boy who Harry had always known so well, Harry felt like he should have got past all of his nerves and awkwardness a long time ago. Perhaps he had the excuse of saving the wizarding world for a lack of much romance back at Hogwarts, but after the Battle of Hogwarts, he wished that he had experienced all of the nerves of going on first dates, with both men and women, in order to get it all over with, rather than still feeling like an inexperienced teenager as he headed to his second Yule Ball as an adult and a teacher.

With a sigh, he hid his wand in the pocket of his dress robes, just in case Malfoy really was up to something.

* * *

Harry definitely felt an impending sense of doom as he left his room and started to head downstairs.

By the time he had reached the marble staircase leading to the Entrance Hall, he was sure that he was actually trembling. It didn't help that the Entrance Hall looked more packed than ever, what with the presence of the American students, too, and every single student in the Entrance Hall seemed to be looking up at him, staring avidly.

Draco Malfoy was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. In spite of Harry's nerves, and his suspicions that he was unwittingly the victim of one of Malfoy's elaborate practical jokes, he couldn't help but notice that Draco looked extremely handsome. He might have been wearing black dress robes like last time, but he seemed to suit them better now that he was an adult; the more modern style and the unique material just seemed to fit him better. His hair also looked perfect, and unless Harry was imagining things, his eyes looked brighter when they caught sight of Harry.

As Harry got closer to him, Malfoy actually dropped into an elaborate, over the top bow, smirking the whole time.

"Aww!" several of the girls surrounding them practically squealed, grinning and holding their hands over their hearts, while Harry tried desperately not to blush.

Malfoy simply straightened up with a grin, not looking the slightest bit embarrassed by all the attention. In fact, Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he was enjoying it.

Harry and Malfoy stared at one other, as though waiting for the other to speak first.

"You…er…look…er…nice," Harry stuttered, to break the awkward silence.

"You flatter me, Potter," Malfoy replied sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, like he was expecting a much stronger compliment.

The groups of students around them however, still seemed to think that this interaction was worthy of yet more enthusiastic jumping up and down.

"Hurry along, all of you! The feast is about to start!" A stern voice cut through all of the shrieks of excitement.

As Professor McGonagall approached the students, waving her hands to usher them into the Great Hall, the noise quickly died down and the students moved into the Hall.

Harry grinned gratefully at her as she passed. He was sure that he heard her whisper, "Good luck, Potter," as she too headed into the Great Hall.

"Shall we go in, then?" Harry asked Malfoy.

Malfoy simply nodded.

It was a relief, to Harry at least, to be able to walk into this Yule Ball surrounded by groups of students and members of staff, rather than having to enter the Hall in procession like he had done all those years ago.

"Nice robes, Potter...if only you could have done something about your hair," Malfoy insulted him under his breath, ruining Harry's brief moment of enjoyment.

The Great Hall was decorated in a similar way to the last Yule Ball, with Christmas trees, ivy and many lantern-lit tables. Harry couldn't help feeling a twinge of nervousness when he caught sight of the garlands of mistletoe crossing the ceiling.

He spotted Ron and Hermione as he walked in, and also Hagrid, who was sitting at a table with several other members of staff. Harry suddenly felt a lot calmer.

Harry and Draco ended up sitting next to Ron and Hermione, and Neville and Hannah Longbottom.

To Harry's embarrassment, Malfoy actually pulled his chair out for him, looking for all intents and purposes like the perfect gentleman. Harry wasn't sure he liked this; it was always expected that he would take the lead in his relationships with women, or in most aspects of his life, really, and the idea of Malfoy being the one in control in this particular situation rather unnerved him. It didn't help that Hannah kept grinning at them, like Malfoy's gesture was adorable.

Malfoy greeted the rest of the guests at the table politely, and he even managed to make conversation for a minute or so with Hermione and Hannah, but Harry could tell from Ron's glare that things definitely wouldn't be easy if whatever it was that was going on between him and Draco Malfoy lasted beyond the Yule Ball.

Feeling very nervous at just the thought of something happening between him and Malfoy, Harry concentrated instead on Professor McGonagall, who was giving a speech to welcome all of their American guests to the Ball, with a mention about next year marking the tenth anniversary of the victory at the Battle of Hogwarts.

After McGonagall had finished speaking, and the delicious food had appeared on their plates, Harry started talking to Malfoy about Quidditch, which then led to a conversation about the Hogwarts Quidditch tournament, and then life at Hogwarts in general, as well as some talk about the Ministry, with input from Ron and Hermione, and Malfoy even making several amusing jokes about some of the more obnoxious members of staff at the Ministry of Magic.

As the conversation flowed easily, Harry realised that he often forgot just how much the two of them had in common when they weren't arguing. After all, they had spent many a Friday afternoon in conversation over a cup of tea in Malfoy's office, in spite of the fact that Harry had been half-convinced that Malfoy had been secretly trying to poison him every single time.

Still, Harry kept an eye out for any signs that Malfoy was about to announce that he'd only asked Harry to the Yule Ball as a joke.

After they had finished eating, the band The Weird Sisters appeared on a raised platform along one of the walls of the Great Hall, all of them looking older and greyer than Harry remembered. A large banner announcing a reunion tour was displayed behind them on the stage.

"Let's dance, Potter," Malfoy told him bossily as the band began to play the first notes of a song, before Harry could think of a way to get out of dancing.

Reluctantly, he followed Malfoy to the dance floor, who of course led him right to the centre, rather than staying more hidden on the edge of the floor.

Harry heard something that sounded a lot like ' Potter…hand…waist.'

"Er…what?" Harry asked, finding it difficult to concentrate when it felt like every single student who was already on the dance floor was watching them.

"Put your hand on my waist, Potter," Malfoy sighed, speaking slowly, like Harry was one of his more inept students.

With a glare at Malfoy, Harry lifted his hand so that he could place it on Malfoy's waist, feeling more awkward than ever.

Malfoy then took the lead, grabbing Harry's other hand firmly and swaying them around slowly on the dance floor.

Although Harry had always hated dancing, he had to admit that it was definitely more comfortable with a man. It just felt easier, what with their almost equal height, and the fact that they seemed to move in almost perfect sync, as though they were both moving around above a Quidditch pitch, only this time they were both on the same team.

After a couple of minutes, it felt almost natural to be standing hand-in-hand with Draco Malfoy. It was _almost_ possible to ignore the grins of several American students who had just joined them on the dance floor with their dance partners.

Harry had to wonder if the reason why he had always felt so awkward and out of place at formal events like this in the past was because really, his partners at formal events _should_ have been men instead of women.

Eventually, more of the adults joined them. Harry grinned when Ron asked Hermione to dance, looking every inch the mature adult that he hadn't quite been at Hogwarts. He noticed that Hermione flushed pink as Ron led her confidently to the dance floor, and Harry couldn't help feeling pleased for them, with the knowledge that they could be here at this second Yule Ball, that they could now finally have _their_ Yule Ball, together as a couple.

"Ron, you learned how to dance…" he heard Hermione whisper to Ron. She sounded very impressed by Ron's newly acquired dance ability, and Harry couldn't help grinning all over again, feeling a bit emotional on Ron's behalf.

"You know, Potter, I'm _amazed_ that you never invented some kind of law at the Ministry that would allow the three of you to marry each other," Malfoy drawled sarcastically, looking from Harry to Ron and Hermione.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped back at him as an automatic response. He took the hint, however, that Malfoy wanted more attention from him, so he went back to focusing on dancing with him.

Harry had been planning to escape from the dance floor after the first dance, but after a rather nasty glare from Malfoy, he agreed to stay for a second dance. Then, after yet more glares from Malfoy (and prompts from the students around them), Harry stayed for yet another dance.

He ended up staying on the dance floor for a fourth dance, because Malfoy insisted that it was his favourite song, but after that, Malfoy seemed to take pity on him, and he suggested that they go and get a drink.

Feeling relieved that Malfoy hadn't done anything to humiliate him on the dance floor, Harry simply nodded and followed him.

They found a table in the far corner of the Hall, and Malfoy pulled out a chair for Harry all over again, before he left for a few minutes to go and get drinks. Harry had barely had time to think up a few more potential practical jokes that Malfoy might play on him, before he returned to the table with two small bottles of Butterbeer.

"I didn't poison it, Potter," Malfoy insisted with a roll of his eyes, apparently picking up on Harry's dubious expression as he eyed the Butterbeer warily.

With a sigh, Harry gave in and took a sip. It was delicious. He sat back in his seat and listened to Malfoy going on about designer robes and the lack of good quality robes available in Hogsmeade.

Harry was spared from more thoughts about potentially being poisoned when a few other people eventually joined their table after an hour or so. Ron had apparently got a little tipsy on firewhiskey since the start of evening and he started slurring his words, saying something about fancy hotels in Hogsmeade and making babies, while Hermione blushed. He no longer looked like the mature adult who had smoothly guided Hermione around the dance floor.

Harry couldn't help feeling relieved that _he_ hadn't started on the firewhiskey at the beginning of the Ball, as he wouldn't have liked to have completely let his guard down on an evening with Draco Malfoy.

Apparently sensing that Harry was getting fed up with the drunken conversations around him, Malfoy told Harry that they were going to take a walk outside.

Even though Ron was well on his way to being very drunk, he still managed to throw Harry a look that suggested that something very bad might happen to him as Harry left the table with Malfoy.

* * *

Feeling more cautious than ever, Harry followed Malfoy out of the Entrance Hall and into the Hogwarts grounds, which had been decorated in the same way as last time, with rose bushes and fairy lights.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, with Harry trying to throw subtle glances in Malfoy's direction. He decided that Malfoy's current smirk was far too smug for his liking, and his suspicions grew all over again.

Unable to take the silence and the confusion any longer, Harry stopped walking, causing Malfoy to stop, too.

"Well?" Harry prompted him, sounding slightly hysterical.

"Well, what, Potter?" Malfoy asked him with a frown.

"What is it that you're planning? You must have _something_ up your sleeve. If this is all part of some kind of practical joke, I'd rather know now, or I'd rather you just got it over with…"

Malfoy stared at him with a confused expression for a couple of moments, before he suddenly seemed to work out what Harry was going on about.

"Potter," he drawled, "did you _seriously_ think that I asked you to the Hogwarts Yule Ball as a joke? I work here as a _teacher_ , in case it escaped your notice. It's part of my job to prevent immature students from asking other students out as a 'practical joke'. My family's under constant observation from the Ministry, too, for Merlin's sake! Do you really think I'd take a risk like that?"

"Well…yeah, maybe, I don't know," Harry mumbled, now feeling slightly ridiculous.

"You really are an idiot, Potter," Malfoy sighed, and Harry was sure that he detected a hint of disappointment now on Malfoy's face, although he didn't understand why he looked that way. "Why were you so foolish as to say yes, if you truly believed that I would humiliate you at some point before the end of the evening?"

"I don't know," Harry shrugged, now feeling like the idiot that Malfoy had just accused him of being. "I suppose deep down I was hoping that I was wrong," he added, looking determinedly down at the floor.

When he looked up, he was sure that he saw a flicker of hope on Malfoy's face, but then the closed off, guarded look that he had often worn since the Battle of Hogwarts quickly came back.

"You know, Potter, I really have to wonder whether you _are_ in the middle of some sort of long-delayed nervous breakdown after the Battle of Hogwarts…"

Harry felt a twinge of anger at this accusation, and also a twist of envy at just how 'together' Draco Malfoy seemed to be as an adult. It almost seemed unfair to Harry, that someone like Malfoy could be so cool and confident now, when Harry knew that _he_ was expected to be like that, as the 'hero' of the wizarding world, even though he definitely _wasn't_ like that at all.

Not that Harry was complaining about how impeccable Malfoy looked at all times, though…

"Anyway, Potter," Malfoy sneered, "what would be the point of playing a practical joke on you out here? There's nobody around; who would see it? I would have been careful to ensure that any humiliation inflicted upon you would have been played out in front of a large audience in the Great Hall. I would have done something at the start of the Ball, so that your sidekicks could have seen it, too…"

Harry felt an even stronger twinge of anger. "Why are you _still_ such an annoying prat whenever I'm around you?" he asked Malfoy. "Even after all this time?"

Malfoy went quiet, and much to Harry's surprise, the rarely-seen vulnerable look appeared on his face.

"Because I can't have you, Potter," he replied in barely more than a whisper, looking down at the floor. "Because I could _never_ have you."

"Says who?" Harry demanded, getting over his shock at Draco's admission, and letting a sense of anger at the so-called 'rules' being able to dictate anyone's behaviour take over the sense of surprise at Malfoy's answer.

"Honestly, Potter," Malfoy replied, the arrogant expression now firmly back in place after his moment of vulnerability. "Have you been walking around the wizarding world for the past seventeen years with your eyes closed, bumping into the walls? Do you _really_ not know what people would say? Are you that thick? You don't know what they _do_ say about my family every single day? Have you not just heard the accusations and the prejudice that came out of your own mou-"

Malfoy was abruptly cut off when Harry impulsively leaned forward, grabbed him and kissed him, more to shut him up than anything else.

He felt Malfoy tense up for a few seconds, as though he couldn't quite believe what was happening, but then he was kissing Harry back, wrapping his arms firmly around Harry's waist and taking control of the kiss.

If Harry didn't already know, he would have worked out just from the kiss that Draco had had more experience than him with things like this. He seemed to know how to nibble at Harry's lips in just the right places, he was able to gently guide Harry's mouth open, and he knew just where to put his hands.

Perhaps it was just the leftover taste of Butterbeer, but the kiss tasted sweet, addictive almost, making Harry feel breathless.

It felt like a logical conclusion after years of arguing, and an obsession which had continued long after their Hogwarts years. He realised now that _this_ was the reason why he had been so nervous about attending the Yule Ball, the reason why he had been so determined that he couldn't back out of going with Draco Malfoy. Somewhere very deep down, he had wanted this to happen between them all along.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, lost in their kiss, and Malfoy even started kissing down Harry's neck, whispering something about how the only plans he had made for Harry on the night of the Yule Ball had involved school broom cupboards.

They were only cut off from their kissing when they heard several loud wolf-whistles from somewhere a few feet away from them, and when they sprang apart, they realised that the whistles had come from several students who had made their way outside.

As embarrassed as he was, Harry was pleased to see a faint blush on Draco's cheeks, too. He also felt overwhelmingly relieved now that he knew that Malfoy wasn't in fact 'up to something'.

After Draco had shouted at the giggling students to go away, the two of them stared at each other awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

After a little while, the two of them walked further into the Hogwarts grounds side by side, suddenly feeling like they needed a bit of privacy to discuss a few things. It wasn't exactly romantic, even though their hands occasionally touched as they walked so close together, because as they walked they continued to bicker about how idiotic Harry had been in accepting an invitation to go to the Yule Ball when he hadn't exactly trusted his partner's motives, but after years of awkward dates with women where Harry always found any romantic gestures to be rather forced, this moment out in the grounds arguing with Malfoy seemed perfect.

The next morning, Harry would wake up with a grin on his face and happy memories of snogging in an old Hogwarts broomstick cupboard, and he would pointedly ignore the accusing stares from Professor McGonagall at breakfast, and then he would eventually tell Ron and Hermione that it had been the best Yule Ball that he had ever attended.


End file.
